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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370939">The Right Words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub'>DenmarkStreetGutterClub</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Dumbledore quote, Escalation at some point, F/M, Henry Beard's Latin for All Occasions, Loaded banter, Porn with Feelings, shower smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the course of a Saturday lie-in, Our Heroes try something new.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Overture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Overture: <br/>an introduction to something more substantial. Alternatively, an orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera, suite, play, oratorio, or other extended composition. Let's suspend disbelief and call this an extended composition. Pretty please?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike was lying back carelessly in bed with his hands behind his head, listening to Robin hum while she made tea. It was another delicious postcoital Saturday morning of the sort that had occurred maybe four times thus far.</p>
<p>He had grown accustomed to them. He was in too deep. Sod it, he'd rehire Morris before having either of them work a Saturday morning ever again.</p>
<p>(Of course not. But still...nope, she'd find out. Blasted paperwork.)</p>
<p>She was back in a flash, placing the inky tea on the table beside him and a kiss on his forehead.</p>
<p>"I'll make it next time," he said absently, tracing the curve of her bum under her long t-shirt as she half-vaulted over him.</p>
<p>"You may," she conceded, settling back in. "But you had a nasty fall yesterday and I didn't mind keeping you in bed a bit longer."</p>
<p>"Cheers," he said. Then, "you do realise you can't pee for me?"</p>
<p>"It might have come up in my counter-surveillance course," she lobbed back, deadpan.</p>
<p>He heaved himself up, hopped to his tiny bathroom to take care of matters of urinary urgency and dental hygiene, and had hopped back before the other half of his tea had gone cold.</p>
<p>Clasping her warm hand in his own, he stared at the ceiling and smiled absently as he mentally replayed various Saturdays past. He had entered that delightful state of sporting a semi, but being too lazy to do anything about it, when she put down her magazine and addressed him.</p>
<p>"You look like a man sighing for something he hasn't got," she said, leaning over. And taking him by the chin, she added, "and I can't have that, Mr Strike."</p>
<p>It was a new thing, feeling like sharing. He always did, with her.</p>
<p>"Spending time with you makes me feel whole on some level," he mused, tracing an outsized finger up and down her arm and marvelling at the way her tiny hairs stood up in answer to his touch. "The only downside of that  is I miss my leg more. I feel younger too. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry you never met my younger, two-legged self."</p>
<p>"Would I have been impressed, though?" she mused. "What if he was a complete git and needed a dose of maturity and a bit of disappointment? Or even" -there followed a dramatic pause, complete with eyebrow lift- "a cockybastardectomy?"</p>
<p>His chuckle turned into a sigh as he rolled toward her with a conspiratorial smirk.</p>
<p>"Ellacott, I'll come clean."</p>
<p>"Please do."</p>
<p>"Clean is not the right word."</p>
<p>"Do go on, then." She bit down ostentatiously on her lip and he chased her gesture with a kiss.</p>
<p>"Nuh-uh", she scolded after a moment. "This was just getting interesting."</p>
<p>"You wound me."</p>
<p>"I get kisses from you all the time, and they are lovely. What I don't usually get are confessions, and I smell one coming. Please continue."</p>
<p>"You asked for it."</p>
<p>"I did."</p>
<p>"The problem with feeling like a cocky bastard again is that I (kiss) would very much like (kiss) to fuck you against the wall (kiss). Until you scream."</p>
<p>"You could always just make me scream in bed", remarked Robin dryly from her vantage point two inches away from his lips. "You're reasonably good at that. Absolutely no need for you to knacker yourself. I like beds. I find them quite practical."</p>
<p>He waggled his furry eyebrows at her. He was ridiculous. He was adorable. He smelt minty fresh. Robin took pity and kissed him back properly, before stopping again.</p>
<p>"You know anything that...er...energetic is not a good idea, at least not until that swelling goes down. So of course you pick right now to be nostalgic."</p>
<p>"But I've wasted at least four against-the-wall shags on the wrong woman. Women."</p>
<p>"All at the same time, no doubt."</p>
<p>"No comment."</p>
<p>"Don't moan. You were still practising. To be good enough for me." She smiled sweetly and he snaked one hand under the hem of her shirt and up to her waist.</p>
<p>Her teasing would most assuredly be the death of him; but at the same time, he was wondering how he had ever managed to breathe prior to the appearance of cheeky Robin, or better yet, cheeky naked Robin, and she knew it.</p>
<p>"So why don't you tell me how you would have gone about fucking me against a wall in those days, Sergeant?" she asked. I expect your fully detailed report by eleven-hundred hours."</p>
<p>He sucked in his breath and his hand twitched where it lay on her hip*. "Sounds amusing. But what do you get out of that, really?"</p>
<p>"You have got to be kidding me, Strike! It's basic psychology. The very best porn for women? It's all words." She surveyed him from under her eyelashes. "If you choose the right words."</p>
<p>He took in her rapt expression, her dilating pupils. Christ, she was serious.</p>
<p>"Challenge accepted, Ellacott", he growled, sounding sexier than he felt.</p>
<p>He was going to attempt to blow her mind. Using only his own.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure it was his best tool for the job and he was feeling more than a little intimidated.</p><hr/>
<p>*yes, his hand.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Toccata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Toccata: a virtuoso piece of music typically for a keyboard or plucked string instrument [!!] featuring fast-moving, lightly fingered [!!] or otherwise virtuosic passages or sections...generally emphasizing the dexterity of the performer's tongue. Fingers! I meant fingers.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deep breath.</p><p>"I think I need a setting," he ventured. "I'm getting one." He dropped his voice, a little shyly. "I think you'll like it."</p><p>He hesitated a bit before adding, "and it has nothing to do with anyone else, got that? Just imaginary. Just you and me."</p><p>"Tell me," she breathed back, her bright eyes on him as they lay on their sides face-to-face. He was just so bloody considerate when he wanted to be.</p><p>"To make it really count," he said, "it should be a shower. Some sort of posh resort shower like a glass cubicle. I just walk in -no grab bars- and I can balance. Can't begin to tell you how much I miss that. I can feel texture under both feet. Pebbly. But smooth."</p><p>He stopped. "At one point I was thinking about a waterfall outside somewhere, but it's winter and I didn't want you to get cold, never mind scraping up against rocks."</p><p>She laughed, enchanted already.</p><p>"Anyway, you're sound asleep tangled up in the duvet and I've come in to hog the fancy soap samples. I've turned the water up steaming hot and I'm getting soapy". He paused and made an ironic moue. "I smell amazing by this point".</p><p>"You do", she answered with her eyes closed. "I'm getting sandalwood, ginger..."</p><p>"Doing your clairvoyant thing again, I see. Anyway, maybe it's the scent that wakes you up. You throw off that duvet and come to find me in the bathroom. I'm rinsing off and when I look up, there you are pressed naked against the glass, watching me, arms raised, looking like one of those ancient goddesses who always gets her way. Hold on, I think I need to do a little research to get this just right."</p><p>Her eyes popped open as he slowly pulled up her t-shirt and peeled it over her uppermost shoulder; with a little wiggle and a push, she divested herself of the other sleeve. He pulled the sheet up to warm her while still affording an excellent view, and she studied him in turn, his jawline, his weekend stubble; she vowed to commit the shape of him to memory as he lay next to her, carefully taking stock of her reactions.</p><p>"Your nipples look amazing against the glass, by the way, like..." he flailed..."drops of strawberry ice cream dotting the side of the cone.So it's just a question of seconds before I'm licking the shape of you through the glass, half drowning as the water runs into my mouth, but I don't care. I want more. I want you in there, getting wet with me."</p><p>Her eyelids drooped as she let out a little moan; reflexively, her hips tipped an inch closer to his.</p><p>"Nuh-uh" he imitated her, delivering a tiny nip to her ear. "You started this, and now you'll just have to bear it."</p><p>He looked down again for inspiration, and found it quite easily.</p><p>"Anyway, the Temptation of the Chest Hair is too much for you, and you slip into the shower with me. Thank God. So now I'm stooping to feel your nipples stretch as I circle them with my tongue, my thumbs...thumb..." he broke off again. "What the hell am I doing with my other hand? Have I ever told you, Ellacott, that I don't even have enough hands for you when we're making love? I can always think of at least six places I need to be touching you."</p><p>"My bum." she supplied in a near groan. "Your mouth is over one nipple, you're cupping the other side, and you're kneading your fingers into my bum."</p><p>He nodded in solemn agreement. "That sounds like a very good plan. But I'm going to get tired of bending down eventually. Plus, you're making some seriously sexy little noises. So I think I'll drop my other hand to your bum as well, and start working my way down your body until I'm on my knees..."</p><p>She groaned and rolled her thighs together, clenching inside just a little.</p><p>"Licking up the beads of water running down your skin. All the way."</p><p>He swallowed hard and studied her face. Her eyes were closed, but a flush was starting to appear on her cheekbones and down her neck.</p><p>God, she was magnificent. He reminded himself that he had resisted the urge to touch her for nearly five fucking years. Maybe he could hold off for a few more minutes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Fugue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fugue: a contrapuntal compositional technique in two or more voices [!!]...introduced at the beginning in imitation (repetition at different pitches [!!]) and which recurs frequently [!!] in the course of the composition.<br/>I'll never be able to look Bach in the eye again (fans self with ostrich feathers).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next bit was going to be tricky, but he was feeling determined.</p>
<p>"You have my full attention, Ellacott. I'm taking your incredible arse in both hands, leaning forward to taste you. You look amazing and you smell better than single malt. I'm running my tongue, slowly, all along your-"</p>
<p>Her eyes were still closed, so he winced before settling on "-soft petals."</p>
<p>She let out a little hum and squirmed, this time bringing her hips almost up against him. Probably a good sign. Encouraged, he continued.</p>
<p>"I can feel them tremble and thrill to my touch. Growing as plump and kissable as your other lips. I'm just indulging myself really because I know exactly what you want. You whisper my name when I finally touch my tongue to your clit, licking back and forth, side to side, until your back arches and...er...what are you doing?"</p>
<p>He captured her hand from where she had insinuated it. "Cheating, Ellacott? Very naughty. Two demerits and I will require your hands to be immobilised for the duration."</p>
<p>He rolled her onto her back to command her full attention, and pinned her wrists lightly above her head using the massive mitt belonging to the elbow currently propping him up.</p>
<p>"Just for that, I'm going to take my mouth off your clit. I'm gripping your hips again to stand up and dragging my cock up the length of your slick, wet body. It comes to rest between your thighs and starts to rub at your wet petals. I'm gritting my teeth from the feel of you and that's when you look up at me and say..."</p>
<p>He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling exposed and desperate, rock-hard and aching, overwhelmed by the shape of her, long and lithe and glowing golden in the morning light.</p>
<p>"Take me now," she murmured huskily, opening her eyes at last. "I say, 'take me now'."</p>
<p>"Yes ma'am," he muttered back. "I'm slowly running the tip of my cock from your clit, along your folds, circling, now opening your petals. You hook one knee around my back as I press you right against the smooth tile wall. I'm hunting for the right spot but you just tighten your grip with that leg, pulling me close, and bingo, the head of my cock just slips inside. I feel that heavenly slickness and scrap any plans I may have had of teasing you further. My hips jerk forward, and I fill you, inch by glorious inch, as I grip your arse in both hands and lift you to just the right height."</p>
<p>He found himself struggling to ignore Robin's blush, her laboured breathing, her bead-like nipples; any distraction now and he'd never finish, so to speak. He attempted to focus instead on a single unmarked and prosaic square inch of her ribcage.</p>
<p>"You cling to my shoulders, panting hard as we adjust and you wrap your other leg around me too. We're as close as we've ever been to each other, our bodies fully pressed together under the shower spray. I can feel the ridge on the head of my cock drawing against that soft spongy stuff up at the top of your walls and you're pure heaven. We're getting louder, crying out for each other as I'm thrusting hard and out of control, again and again and it's-"</p>
<p>Robin's wrists strained against his hands as her back arched and her lips parted in a silent scream; he stared open-mouthed as well, hardly able to believe what he was seeing, unaware even of the fact that his hips had been rocking back and forth in time with hers for several minutes.</p>
<p>Acting on the same sort of split-second instinct that had once driven him to wrench Anstis into the back of the Viking, he lowered his head and blew a sharp puff of air onto her nipple.</p>
<p>And then she did scream. It might have been his name; it might have been Godzilla's. It mattered not a bit. He had never seen a woman come from this angle before, and without his own immediate pleasure clouding his senses; he had microseconds in which to commit to memory the flexing of her feet, the jerk of her hips, the rise and fall of the curve of her back that made her pink-stained breasts roll and bounce.</p>
<p>"Fuck <em>me</em>!" he groaned, entirely undone, pulling her roughly to himself at last, fumbling his way into her quivering wetness with a frantic "Robin, I'm gonna..."</p>
<p>And he did.</p><hr/>
<p>"Cheater" was the first thing she was able to say to him, a few minutes later.</p>
<p>He squinted at the amber-coloured hair spilling across his chest. "As I recall, you cheated first. How on earth did you end up on top?"</p>
<p>"I'm not sure." She yawned. "It's a mystery. You'll have to install cameras in this room if you want more intel."</p>
<p>"Robin?"</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"You really didn't fake it?"</p>
<p>"No, did you?"</p>
<p>"Ha. Did you know you could do that?"</p>
<p>"Only that it was possible for some women. Believe me, I'd never..."</p>
<p>"It was amazing."</p>
<p>"I think I'm supposed to tell <em>you</em> that."</p>
<p>"No, seriously, it doesn't add up. I mean...what I said...it can't have been that good. I tried to sound sexy but didn't know what I was doing. "Petals" for fuck's sake."</p>
<p>She chuckled.</p>
<p>"Maybe it has more to do with how you made me feel by agreeing to play my game. You were so earnest and I felt completely worshipped. It was very empowering. You seem to be ironing out my insecurities."</p>
<p>She pushed herself up on her forearms to meet his wondering gaze. "And speaking of which, how do you feel about yourself right now?"</p>
<p>"Er..." he flashed her an incongruously shy little grin.</p>
<p>"Exactly," she smiled back. "Any twenty-three-year-old squaddie can fuck his girl against a wall. It's usually bruising and unpleasant, by the way. But how many of them can bring a woman off without touching her?"</p>
<p>He blinked. "Probably not so many, when you put it that way."</p>
<p>"There you go. Of course you miss your leg. But if you hadn't lost it, you wouldn't know what you are capable of."</p>
<p>"I have the best shrink in the world," he mused, pulling her down for another kiss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Coda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Coda: an expanded cadence; in a sonata form movement, the recapitulation section will, in general, follow the exposition in its thematic content, while adhering to the home key.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The package arrived the following Wednesday while Pat was out for an afternoon doctor appointment.</p><p>Strike had been looking over paperwork, a little reluctantly, when he heard the muffled sound of the buzzer. Not the office buzzer, but the one for his flat, oddly enough.</p><p>He wasn't sure what he had expected- no one ever rang his flat, really- but it certainly wasn't a largish, lightish box addressed to him from NRS Healthcare.</p><p>It must have come from Robin. What on earth was she up to? And what was she so shy about ordering that she'd had it delivered to his flat rather than risking sending it to the office?</p><p>How he loved a fresh set of good questions. And mysteries. And Robin. He hauled the box up the metal stairs, bunged it into his flat, and slashed the tape open with his keys before pocketing them.</p><p> </p><p>It was a shower chair. He had always abhorred them; they reminded him of Selly Oak and the smell of disinfectant; of the crutch transfers and his barely suppressed urges to be rude to the physical therapists and nurses who were only doing their jobs.</p><p>But Robin had picked out this one, and he suddenly saw the point.</p><p>It could be adjusted to all sorts of ingenious heights, for one thing. For another, it was rated to 200 kg. And it had some rather useful-looking grab bars.</p><p>A shiver ran down his spine as he conjured up a white-hot mental image of his fingers spread out over Robin's, an array of white knuckles gripping those bars, with the rush of water and their moans providing the soundtrack.</p><p>He knew exactly what she was thinking, and his neck grew hot.Leave it to Robin to make a piece of plastic and aluminium medical equipment decidedly erotic.</p><p>He chuckled, shut the door, and made his way back down the stairs.</p><p>She had arrived from her morning surveillance when he opened the door to the office; he caught her eye and treated her to a wicked stare as she bent over to consult something on Pat's desk. With the merest flicker of her eyebrow and pucker of her lips, she alerted him to Barclay's presence on the sofa, where he was reviewing a stack of small notebooks.</p><p>Well, fuck. He'd have to use the right words again.</p><p>"I signed for your shipment," he submitted.</p><p>"Oh, yes" she agreed, without lifting her head from Pat's ledger. "The...office supplies. How do they look?"</p><p>"Quite good."</p><p>"I'm glad. I was a bit worried you wouldn't care for a new filing system."</p><p>And she did look a bit guilty. She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth and the blush that had risen on her cheeks when he'd appeared was now flooding down her neck, as if looking for a place to hide. He looked quickly at his feet to hold in the laugh that was threatening to escape.</p><p>"Oh, as long as we can we can remember what goes where, I'm all for trying new things." He couldn't resist the smallest of twinkles.</p><p>"I'm so pleased you agree. I did see a few features that should help us work out any difficulties, but I didn't want to overstep." she informed him absently. </p><p>"No, it's good. Backing up your files and having a decent support system is very important for business safety and continuity, you know that." </p><p>He was enjoying himself thoroughly and just working out his next remarks when he saw her fingertips clench against the side of the desk and experienced a surge of pure lust.</p><p>All at once they made the mistake of eye contact, and their simultaneous intake of breath was just audible.</p><p>"That's me away to lunch!" announced Barclay, fleeing the scene at high speed with face and ears aflame.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Encore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(This was supposed to be done and dusted. Indeed, the presence of an additional chapter wrecks my sonata form. But the incredible 105 North Tower, who would have done this better, keeps inspiring me to try to write silly banter. Ah well, there's always that one bloke who goes home from the concert whistling.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(Our heroes are still in bed on Saturday, following the Serious Talk.)</p><p>"Strike, I still can't get over that word you used. "Petals". It was odd. Endearing, but odd. That area has a proper name, actually."</p><p>"It has quite a few, but none of them sounded nice enough to be yours. Shall I rattle them off for you? I was in the Army for over twelve years. I could finish my thesis if I switched it to that subject."</p><p>"And yet, you don't seem to have any issues with saying 'clit' or, er, 'cock'."</p><p>"Fascinating! You almost stuttered there, Ellacott. 'Cock' is easy, it should just trip off your tongue."</p><p>They corpsed, but she persisted.</p><p>"You know, I once read that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."</p><p>"Where did you read that rubbish?" he protested. "Anyway, I'm not afraid of it, it's one of my favorite places to visit. I'm not about to call it what I'd call Carver or the muppet who just cut me off in traffic."</p><p>"That's a fair point. But the name is 'vulva'. Can't you even try?"</p><p>"Can't do it, sorry. The cunt who cut me off yesterday morning was driving a vulva. You see? I'll say any words you like, but it doesn't feel respectful to associate them with you, or any part thereof."</p><p>"I cannot believe you are winning this argument. I had the moral high ground and feminism on my side and now I think you have made off with both of them."</p><p>"'Labia' does actually sound quite nice," he mused, "but I'd have to be making love to you in Latin. I'm a little rusty and it sounds like hard work." Affecting a throatier growl, he declaimed, "paululum sursum et dextrosum, o plus! Plus!"</p><p>She rolled her eyes. "Maybe next time, then. You've made a good case for 'petals' as the least awkward choice. Just don't tell me you had a spreadsheet in your head and ruled out all the other suspects in under five seconds."</p><p>"I know! I'll call it Sandra."</p><p>"What!" She reached for a pillow to smother him with and he rolled her off, explaining between belly laughs as she swore and raged.</p><p>"It's what I- ow, nails!- usually call unknown quantities when I don't know the right word for them and wish to be respectful-ah!- while finding them intensely attractive. Now, stop tickling."</p><p>She desisted. "Nice save, Mr Strike."</p><p>"It's what I do." He crinkled up the corners of his eyes at her and held her soft gaze for a beat before groping for his watch. "Christ, Ellacott. One-seventeen. We've skipped breakfast again."</p><p>"Oh bugger. I'll just nip out to Ole and Steens and see if there's anything left."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Definitions lifted from Dictionary and Wikipedia and lovingly reworked in Nerdy Smut.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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